Retribution
by Legendary Biologist
Summary: [GGAM - LS] Brandon sought vengeance on the person who had led a riot that killed his fellow loan shark. However, his target turned out to be a father to a little girl. This made Brandon doubt his humanity and wonder if revenge was the right thing to do.
1. Vengeance

**RETRIBUTION**

 **A/N: Set before** ** _A Loan Shark's Tale_** **(any missing information here can be found in all the related series). Written for The Hostile Takeover Forum Theme Writing Challenge: Good versus Evil.**

* * *

 _"What is evil to one at one time, becomes good at another time to somebody else." -_ Mencius

* * *

Rebellious clients were never a big deal. Whenever they owed money and couldn't pay up, Brandon and his fellow loan sharks would simply break into their houses and steal something of an equal value to the debt. If they fought back, Brandon and his colleagues would only inflict a broken nose or other sorts of injuries that would hurt, but hardly do any harm. They would never kill any civilians.

It was why Brandon, the ace loan shark in Millennion, would never tolerate the act of leading a swarm of commoners to beat his fellow loan shark to death. The leader of that riot sure didn't know what was fair and unfair.

Holding his notepad tightly, Brandon walked out of the moneylender bureau with a scowl. That rascal had to die, to correct the imbalance he had caused. Approaching Arnold and his van, Brandon showed his notepad to the man.

Arnold gazed at the notes momentarily before looking up. "Hit list? You sure you wanna do this, Sir?" He took a key out of his pants pocket. "It's late in the evening now. You'd better leave the target to the organization's sweepers and go home. Miss Mika always prefers that you come home fast."

Still frowning, Brandon returned the notepad to his coat pocket and grabbed the handle of the car door. Mika could wait. For now, he had an urgent matter to deal with; this troublemaker had to die before he could lynch another Millennion man.

"Well, then, let's go." Arnold pressed a button on the car key and unlocked the car doors with a beep.

* * *

Having no idea about who had headed this commotion, Brandon would beat some information out of the rioters. Most of them were his former customers, so with their addresses known, he could visit them immediately. However, he wouldn't harass all of them. Once he had learned the information he needed, he would set off to find the leader of the riot.

Walking along the pest-infested alleyway, Brandon read his notes without giving a damn about the rustles and high-pitched squeaks coming from the scurrying insects and rodents around him. His former customers who lived here had better kindly provide him the correct information; the faster, the better. Else they would find their skulls cracked open.

Soon, a block of two-story houses with chipped wall paint loomed before him. After matching the house numbers with the ones in his notes, he kept his notepad in his coat pocket and approached one of the doors. Steve, the resident of house number 11A, had better be nice. However, the swaying curtain of the window hinted an unfriendly greeting.

Brandon knocked on the door, but there was no response. In an instant, he kicked the door down with his sound leg. If Steve didn't want to open it, then Brandon would do it by himself.

As he stepped into the house, a wooden chair to the chest greeted him. He looked to his side and spotted a trembling Steve with a timber backrest in his hands. The seat was gone; it had probably joined the fallen door as chunks of wood.

"W-what do you want?" Steve asked as the remnants of the broken chair slowly slipped out of his hands. "I don't owe you m-money."

Brandon seized the man by his neck. "You owe me a life."

"Life? What life?"

"You killed my colleague, didn't you?"

With a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, Steve stammered, "I d-don't know!"

It was an expected answer from a rioter, so Brandon slammed Steve against the wall. His grip remained tight, and Brandon would tighten it further if Steve refused to share some information.

"I d-don't know anything!" Steve raised his arms. "I'm just a f-follower!"

"You should know who led this riot then."

Steve said nothing until his skull struck the wall and Brandon's hand threatened to choke him to death. Holding the back of his head, Steve asked in a raucous voice, "If I t-tell you, will you l-let me go?"

Brandon nodded, still glaring at Steve. Only if he spoke the truth would Brandon stop harassing him.

"Leonard l-led us," Steve continued. "He lives at this b-block. His house n-number is 11F."

Loosening his grasp, Brandon nodded. After releasing Steve, he took his notepad out of his coat pocket to confirm if Steve's statement were true. Fortunately, it was; the name and the address matched the data on the notes. Steve had likely told the truth.

"Thank you." Brandon trod the busted door lightly and walked out of the house. As he did, he could hear a sigh of relief from Steve, which prompted Brandon to pause and glare over his shoulder for a moment. _Not so fast. If it turns out to be a lie, I'll be back._

Leonard's residence was just a few doors away from Steve's house. The curtain behind the closed window, though, was unmoving. Maybe Leonard wasn't aware of the dark fate that would soon befall him.

This time, Brandon didn't bother knocking on the door; he simply banged his palm onto its flat surface and sent it crashing to the ground. Stepping into the house, he saw Leonard standing beside a sofa with a hand on the holster on his belt. A little girl crouched behind the couch, cowering in terror as she held her head with her tiny hands.

Leonard pulled out his gun. "I knew you guys would soon find out that I led the riot, so I bought this for self-defense. Guess I'll eliminate another loan shark today."

A gunshot roared, but the bullet turned into a dented pellet after jabbing Brandon's torso. At the same time, a girl's wail broke out, piercing Brandon's eardrums and spawning a wince on his scarred face.

"Papa, stop!" the girl cried out.

For a moment, Brandon saw Leonard and his daughter as himself and a crying Mika. Shuddering, he took a step backwards. Arnold was right; he should've let Millennion's sweepers do the job.

 _Has taking care of Mika softened me?_ His eye squinted shut as he shook his head. _I had done this heinous thing over a hundred times when I was still alive._

All of a sudden, a shove to his forehead snapped him back to his senses. Leonard now stood before him, pressing the barrel of his pistol against his head.

"Long-range bullets won't work," Leonard muttered sternly, "but I believe a point-blank bullet to the head will."

Brandon immediately swatted the pistol out of Leonard's hand and knocked him down with a straight punch to the face. As Leonard lay on the ground with a bloody nose, Brandon picked up Leonard's gun and took aim. Execution time was nigh.

But then, the girl walked towards him. Standing between him and Leonard, she spread her arms. "Don't kill Papa!"

At this, the vision bothered him again. The girl and the injured Leonard had changed to Mika and himself. Maybe it was his good side trying to convince him not to kill.

 _No, this man is still the one who led the riot and killed my colleague!_ He gritted his teeth and took a step forward. After pushing the girl aside, he closed his gradually watering eye. _I must kill him before he does more harm!_ Trigger pulled, and a girl's wail exploded once more.

Opening his eye, he could only stand silently with the gun slipping out of his quivering hand. The sight of a crying Mika hugging a motionless Brandon was just an illusion, but it still tore his heart. What would become of this orphaned girl?

Turning around and walking away from them, Brandon couldn't help but shed tears and curse himself.


	2. Move On

**A/N: Turned it into a two-shot. Written for The Hostile Takeover Forum Theme Writing Challenge: Good versus Evil.**

* * *

It was good work. To Millennion, dispatching Leonard was the right thing to do because he had killed a Millennion man. But to Brandon, it was inhuman. Leonard had a daughter, and his death took away the great life his child was supposed to have.

Much to his chagrin, Brandon's mobile phone wouldn't stop vibrating as Arnold drove him home. Worse yet, whenever he picked up the call, he would hear praises and cheers. His remaining companions in the loan shark department kept saying that he had committed a commendable deed: bringing justice to their dead friend and teaching the civilians to behave well towards Millennion loan sharks.

Upon landing his sound foot on the ledge of Dr. Tokioka's trailer, Brandon lifted his artificial leg and struck the metallic extension with it to completely put himself inside his home. He had returned, but at the sight of Mika sitting at a desk and scribbling in a thick book, he closed the trailer's door softly and walked past her with a long face.

Suddenly, the sound of pencil scraping against a piece of paper subsided, and Mika called out, "You're back! You sure worked overtime today."

Brandon simply took off his coat and hung it on a wall hook. He heard Mika, but he wouldn't look at her since it would remind him of what he had just done earlier: turning a little girl into an orphan. The kid was far younger than Mika, but she was still someone who needed a daddy's care and guidance to grow up.

"Brandon?" Mika asked silently.

He didn't reply; instead, he simply sauntered towards his armchair. As soon as he sat down, he closed his eye.

"You're tired?" A set of graceful footsteps followed that question. "Things didn't go well? Heard that your friend passed away this morning."

The image of Leonard's crying daughter standing between him and Leonard emerged in his mind. Usually, Brandon would've screamed out of immense stress, but because Mika was around, he didn't. His anguished roar would worry her.

Unfortunately, he couldn't hide his frown. His wistful facial expression brought him a pair of warm hands to his only arm.

"Are you sad because of losing your friend?" she questioned gently.

He remained quiet, but the scowl hadn't left his face.

Soon, the warmth on his forearm was no more. "You're sleeping? Okay then. I'll continue doing my homework. But don't forget to retire your prosthesis later."

What? How could he have forgotten about hygiene, especially regarding the remainder of his lost leg? Removing his prosthesis and washing his residual limb were important; not doing those would result in a decaying stump. If that happened, the doctor might need to further amputate it, which would make walking more difficult.

Another set of footsteps echoed, but this time, the sound was going away from him. "I wish I knew how to cheer you up. It's always nicer when you're happy, especially when I have nothing to do." A soft chuckle followed. "We can have fun together. I love it when you let me sit in your lap, cover me with your coat, and read a comic or do a crossword puzzle with me."

 _I have to move on_ , he thought. _Wallowing in sorrow will only put my residual limb at risk and hinder me from being a good "daddy" to Mika._

However, his mind didn't allow him to; it projected the flashes of Brandon delivering a fist to Leonard's face and pointing a gun at him.

 _Stop bothering me_ , he scolded. _You're only hampering me from committing good deeds. Millennion and Mika need me._

The mental image blurred and vanished. Brandon opened his eye, but unlike before, looking at Mika no longer reminded him of Leonard's execution.

Thrusting himself up to a standing position with his hand, he smiled. Now was the time to show Mika that he had overcome the enemy within him. He strolled towards her and stopped behind her. Standing still, he watched her writing numbers beside one of the triangles in the book.

Suddenly, she put down her pencil, turned to him, and cheered, "You sure look happier than before!"

Brandon nodded, still observing the forms in the book. His desire to help emerged, but knowing merely basic calculations and social arithmetic in math, he decided to pull away.

"It's okay," she said, smiling. "I can do this by myself."

Brandon nodded again before turning around and walking towards the back of his armchair. He'd better retire his artificial leg now; when he had done that, maybe Mika would have finished her homework.

His wheelchair stood behind the massive metal recliner. After sitting on it, he pushed the lever to release the wheel lock. With his only hand alternating between spinning the wheel and steering the crooked handle of the lever, he began his journey to the bathroom.

* * *

When he returned from the bathroom with his prosthesis on his lap, Mika was still writing in her math textbook. However, Brandon didn't mind. He would simply sit and wait on his recliner after putting away his artificial leg.

He parked his wheelchair beside his gigantic metal recliner. After pulling the lever to lock the wheels, he grabbed the armrest of his recliner and began pulling himself up to a standing position. Once he stood on one leg, he immediately turned. His backside somehow hit the hard seat with a thud as he bent his healthy knee to sit down, but at least, he had managed to return to his resting place.

As he waited for Mika, the memory of murdering Leonard disturbed him no more. Thoughts of solving crosswords puzzles and reading comics with Mika filled his mind.

 _As long as I can take good care of Mika and support Millennion, I am staying on the right track._ He smiled. _Being kind to others isn't always good for my family after all._


End file.
